


Holmes and Morstan

by Dreamin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Matchmaking, No John Watson, no Johntent in this fic, pre-relationship Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-09 05:45:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16444001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: Mary Morstan moves in with Sherlock Holmes and consequentially attracts the attention of his elder brother.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afteriwake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/gifts).



> So afteriwake and I were talking about the viability of Marycroft. She came up with the idea of Mary being Sherlock's roommate instead of John and she graciously let me steal it.
> 
> In case you didn't read the tags, there will be no John Watson at all in this fic. This story doesn't need him.

Mycroft Holmes read the file he’d taken from his briefcase one more time. Not that he needed to – his memory was beyond eidetic. Still, reading the pages again made him feel more prepared.

_Rosamund Mary Brady, currently calling herself Mary Morstan. American by birth, presently passing as English. Retired CIA. Went freelance for several years before giving that up too. Graduated from nursing school two years ago, currently working at Bart’s, where she met Sherlock yesterday._

_Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Five-foot-four. Thirty-six. Never married, no children._

_Why would a woman like her agree to share a flat with Sherlock of all people? Perhaps she’s attracted to him._ He shuddered at the thought.

Reading the file and seeing her photo did not prepare him for the sight of her in the flesh once he entered the warehouse. Mary Morstan was a petite, powerful woman who assessed him almost as fast as he assessed her.

“I know you know who I am,” she said simply, one hand going to her hip, the outline of a holster barely visible underneath her jacket. “Shall I shoot you now or later?” Her sparkling eyes dared him to act.

He raised an eyebrow. “I would prefer never. You may relax, Ms. Morstan. Or do you prefer Ms. Brady?”

“Ms. Morstan is fine,” Mary said, moving her hand away from her gun but in no way relaxing.

“I am not here to make you pay for the sins of your past. Nor am I going to deport you.” He started circling her slowly, a tactic he knew threw most people off their game.

“Then why am I here?” Mary kept her eyes on him, refusing to turn her back to him.

“You have only known my younger brother for a day yet you are already moving in with him.”

“Wait, you’re Sherlock’s brother?” she asked, her eyes wide.

Mycroft allowed himself a small smile. _She was not expecting that._ “What did you think I was?”

“MI-6.”

“I am, literally. MI-5 as well. But I am here as a concerned older brother. Why are you moving in with Sherlock? If you fancy a romantic relationship with him, I must inform you that my brother has no interest in sex or romantic relationships.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “I think you’re wrong about that but it doesn’t matter – Sherlock’s not my type.” She shrugged. “My landlord raised the rent, I needed a place I could afford. It’s been … a while since I had a flatmate, I thought it might be fun. My friend Mike introduced me to Sherlock and something between us just clicked. Your brother is … interesting.” She gave him a half-smile, one dimple showing. “One thing’s for sure – I won’t be bored.”

Mycroft sighed. “Yes, my brother has a tendency to get himself in sticky situations.” He stopped circling. “How do I know I can trust you?”

She smirked. “You’re not the one who was brought to the most clichéd location on the planet under a veiled threat. Between the two of us, I’d say you’re the one that can’t be trusted. Still, you seem to actually care about your brother, so I’ll just chalk this up to you being overprotective.”

He nodded, glad that she understood. “Suppose we were to meet once a week to discuss my brother? Nothing you would feel uncomfortable sharing, of course.”

“Why meet with me when you could talk to him directly?”

He smiled a bit. “My brother considers me his archenemy.”

“No clue where he got that idea,” she said, grinning.

“To tell the truth-”

“Please,” she cut in, still grinning.

“It has been a long time since he and I talked.”

“Okay one, that’s sad. I don’t have any family yet but if I did, you can bet I’d be on the phone with them daily. Two, I’ll do it, but if Sherlock ever finds out, it’s over.”

“Agreed. Shall we say … the coffee shop around the corner from Baker Street, Saturdays at eight in the morning?”

“Make it nine, I’m not a morning person.”

“Very well. I’ll have Anthea take you home.”

“Good of you,” she drawled sarcastically. She turned towards the exit.

“Ms. Morstan?”

She turned back to him. “Yes?”

“Do take care. My brother can be quite reckless at times.”

Mary nodded. “I’m starting to notice that. And call me Mary.”

“Mycroft.”

She grinned. “Is that a name or did you just sneeze?”

He rolled his eyes. “Until Saturday, Mary.”

“Right. Bye, Mycroft.”

As he watched her walk away, Wentworth Mycroft Byron Holmes knew he had fallen irrevocably in love with the former assassin. There was only one thought on his mind.

_How on Earth do I keep her from finding out?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part takes the place of the scene at the end of ASiP where John learns Mycroft is Sherlock's brother.

Mary looked over her flatmate’s shoulder and grinned. “Here comes Big Brother. Ooo, you’re in trouble now, Sherlock.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he turned to Mycroft. She had told Sherlock about the arrangement she’d made with his brother. He didn’t care as long as nothing she told Mycroft made it back to their parents.

“Another case solved, well done, Sherlock,” Mycroft said, insincerity dripping from each syllable.

“Don’t you have an election to rig, Mycroft?” Sherlock asked irritably.

“Now, boys,” Mary said, smirking, “don’t make me call your mother.”

Both Holmes brothers looked at her with a not-insignificant amount of alarm. Before either of them could say anything, Lestrade called Sherlock over, leaving Mary alone with Mycroft.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Does he know it was you?”

Mary shrugged. “Probably. He deduced that I’m ex-CIA, I don’t think he knows about the freelancing. My question is, how did you know?”

“I heard on the police scanner what happened. Seeing you here with him, well, it doesn’t take a genius, Mary.”

She turned to see Sherlock talking to Lestrade then look at her, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized her. “I think he just figured it out.”

“I highly doubt any charges will come of it,” Mycroft said, “but in the off chance they do, I’ll protect you. There aren’t many people in this world willing to kill for my brother.”

She turned back to him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Are we still on for tomorrow?” He actually seemed nervous.

“Of course.” Mary grinned naughtily. “I’m always ready to be debriefed.”

Mycroft blushed slightly and cleared his throat. “Yes, well…”

He was saved from further comment by the return of Sherlock. “Run along, Mycroft.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Lovely to see you again, Mary. Sherlock, try not to get into trouble between here and Baker Street.”

“No promises,” Sherlock said as he started walking away. “Laters.”

Mary grinned. “See you in the morning, Mycroft.”

Mycroft nodded then started walking back to his car.

Mary spared his arse an appraising glance before she caught up with her flatmate. _Not bad._

* * *

Ten minutes to nine the next morning, Mary was sitting in a booth towards the back of the coffee shop, nibbling on a scone and checking her blog as she waited for Mycroft. She’d written up her account of the case and posted it to her blog just before going to bed the night before.

“And what do the teeming masses think of the case?” Mycroft asked in lieu of a greeting as he sat down across from her with his latte.

“Good morning to you too, Mycroft,” Mary said, grinning. “To answer your question, twenty hits and five ‘likes’ so far. No comments yet.”

“I imagine Sherlock will have something to say about it when he wakes up.” He sipped his coffee then eyed her half-eaten scone hungrily.

“Be right back.” She got up and got a refill of her caramel macchiato before getting him a scone and going back to the booth.

“I couldn’t possibly,” he started to protest when she offered the scone to him after she sat down. “I’m on a diet.”

She took his hand and placed the scone in it. “Consider this your cheat day.”

Mycroft hesitated for a moment then he sighed in apparent defeat and took a bite out of the corner.

Mary grinned triumphantly. “So, do you want to talk about the case?”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’d rather know your thoughts on Sherlock.”

She raised an eyebrow. “In general?”

“Yes.”

She smiled. “I like him. He’s odd, but it’s the kind of odd I can get used to.”

“Would you care to elaborate?” Mycroft took a sip of his latte.

“I’d say his brain is wired differently than most people’s. There are a lot of things he’s ignorant about, even more things that he’s apathetic about. But what he does care about, he cares deeply.” She took another bite of her scone. “Sherlock’s not my type, like I said, but if he were, well, I’d want that intensity turned towards me.”

“You mentioned that you think he has an interest in relationships.”

“And sex,” she said, grinning. “Don’t forget sex.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “What makes you think he’s interested in such things?”

Her grin widened. “Two words – Molly Hooper.”

“The pathologist?”

“Bingo.”

He seemed to consider the possibility as he took another bite of his scone. “I know she fancies him.”

“The fancying goes both ways.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

“Easy – if he didn’t fancy her, he would’ve given her the same ‘married to my work’ spiel he gave me.”

“How do you know he hasn’t?”

Mary smiled a bit. “Because she keeps trying. I honestly think he left that door open to her because, deep down, he wants a relationship with her.”

“Perhaps he simply doesn’t want to break her heart.”

She smirked. “Mr. High-Functioning Sociopath?”

“Touché.”

Mary fiddled with her napkin. “I’m thinking of playing matchmaker.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Absolutely,” she said, nodding firmly. “If I leave it up to them, Doomsday will come and go without them getting any closer. They need divine intervention.”

Mycroft smirked. “And that would be you?”

Mary grinned. “I’ve been called a goddess more than once.”

He cleared his throat, his cheeks coloring slightly. “Yes, well … I wish you luck.”

“Thanks. If I need your help at any point, can I count on it?”

“Do you think a relationship will make my brother less…” He trailed off for want of the right word.

“Sherlockian?”

“Exactly.”

She shrugged. “I think Molly could be the making of him.”

“Then you will have every resource at my disposal.”

She chuckled. “Thanks but I don’t mean spying on her, just … things about Sherlock I don’t already know.”

“Of course.”

Mary grinned. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Caring is not an advantage.”

“I’ll take that as a no.” She took another sip of her coffee. “Pity, you’ve got the makings of a great husband.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

She ticked off on her fingers. “Solid, dependable, protective, resourceful, intelligent, not to mention all of that passion I just know is under that bespoke exterior. I’ve only known you a few days but I swear, you are the most repressed person I’ve ever met. Keep burying those emotions, Mycroft, and one day, they’re going to explode.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “My emotions are not your concern.”

“Just your brother’s?”

“Exactly.”

Mary sighed quietly then she finished her breakfast and stood. “Do yourself a favor, Mycroft, and get laid, preferably sooner rather than later. Otherwise, God help whoever’s around when that volcano finally erupts.” She bent to kiss his cheek, grinning. “See you next Saturday.”

“Er, yes,” he said, looking a bit dazed. “Have a pleasant day.”

“You too.”

She left the café, not seeing Mycroft raise a hand to the cheek she’d kissed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during and just after The Blind Banker.

Mary and Sherlock were in the front hallway at Baker Street, putting on their coats. She was going to check out places in the journalist’s diary while Sherlock was going to the morgue.

“When you see Molly,” she said, smiling a bit, “be nice. Compliment her. And for the love of God, be sincere.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Sincerity is easy to fake.”

“Uh huh. You know, Sherlock, it wouldn’t kill you to ask her out.”

“Married to my work, remember?”

Mary’s smile grew. “Did you tell Molly that?”

“I … er … may have.”

“Right.” Both of them headed out the door and caught separate cabs. Mary couldn’t resist sending Sherlock a text.

**Just be anything other than your usual brusque self. Mary**

There was no reply but she didn’t expect one.

* * *

The next day, she had lunch with Molly at Bart’s canteen. The two of them were already good friends.

“I wish I knew where I stood with him,” Molly said glumly as she ate her sandwich. “He’ll compliment me one day then ignore me the next. Oh, I’m not naïve – I know he only compliments me to get me to do things for him, but still, an insincere compliment is better than nothing.”

“He’ll come around,” Mary said encouragingly, then she smirked. “He just needs to get his head out of his arse.”

Molly giggled. “I hope you’re right.” She hesitated. “There’s, um, there’s this new guy from IT who’s been flirting with me.”

“Is he cute?”

“Yeah, in a boy-next-door way.”

Mary grinned. “Then what’s the problem? Either you’ll make Sherlock so jealous that he finally makes a move or you’ll have a normal relationship with a nice bloke.”

Molly shrugged. “I don’t know if I’m ready…”

“You’re not marrying the man, Molly. You’re just having a drink with him.” She smiled a bit. “You could even shag him if you felt the urge, no one’s going to hunt you down for it.”

Molly looked torn. “It has been a while…”

“There you go. Dress up, have a couple of drinks, then end your dry spell. I guarantee you’ll feel better afterwards.”

The younger woman thought it over for a moment then nodded. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

Mary grinned. “Let’s see if this lights a fire under Sherlock’s arse.”

* * *

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “You encouraged Molly to date someone else? I thought you were trying to match her up with Sherlock.”

Another Saturday morning after a case, another coffee shop chat with her flatmate’s brother.

“Baby steps,” Mary said, grinning. “If Sherlock sees how much other men find her desirable, that might be enough to get him to act. And if not, at least she’s getting laid.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sex is not the panacea the teeming masses seem to think it is.”

“Ooo, breaking out the big words.” She sipped her coffee, smiling a bit. “Maybe if you weren’t a perpetual bachelor, you’d realize it actually is a panacea – stress release, all those lovely hormones, shall I go on?”

“Please don’t,” Mycroft muttered.

“And it’s not like I’m encouraging Molly to fall for this other bloke. She just needs someone to take the edge off. Sherlock’s bound to notice.”

“Of course he’ll notice, he notices everything about her, but the question is, will he act on it?”

“He will,” Mary said confidently. “I’d bet good money on it.”

Mycroft smirked. “Indeed? Shall we place a wager?”

She grinned. “Ooo, the Iceman wants to play? Okay, 50 quid?”

“Make it a hundred and you’re on.”

She laughed softly. “It’s a good thing I’m confident about these two – not all of us are made of money.” She held out her hand. “100 quid it is.”

Mycroft shook it and she did her best to ignore the spark she felt.

“So, speaking of dating,” she asked, “why aren’t you?”

“I have neither the time nor the inclination.”

“You’re asexual?” she asked, simultaneously hiding her surprise and clamping down on her sudden disappointment.

Mycroft sighed. “I’m not, I simply don’t have time for the idiots that make up the majority of the population.”

Mary grinned. “Present company excluded, I hope.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course.”

“So…”

“So?” he echoed.

“How ‘bout a date?” she asked, her grin widening.

He blinked in surprise. “I…” He was saved by his mobile ringing. Pulling it out of his pocket, he checked the display. “I really must take this.” He rose then pulled on his coat. “Until next time.”

“I’ll wear you down eventually, Mycroft,” she said, smirking. “Have a good week.”

“Er … yes, you as well.”

Mary watched him go, grinning to herself. _Now I just have to get both Holmes brothers in a dating mood. I’m gonna enjoy this._


End file.
